


knowing all the things you just escaped

by serafinawitchwoman



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Angst, F/M, everything is terrible and i like pain, lovelace is perfect, possible light smut, selberg catches feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:58:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafinawitchwoman/pseuds/serafinawitchwoman
Summary: Elias Selberg is a survivor. He does not scare easily.But the warm smile on Isabel Lovelace's face when she sees him is the most terrifying weapon he has ever seen.





	1. uncontrolled variables

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remembertowrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembertowrite/gifts).



> based on a prompt from the lovely @surely-you-jess on tumblr, for loveberg, "things you said between your teeth".  
> I'm over at alexandrachenkova.tumblr.com, if you want to come cry with me about audio drama.

This becomes a very dangerous mission about two weeks into his third stay onboard the Hephaestus. It is otherwise perfectly unremarkable; all parameters are optimal and morale is high. Preparations for the nonhuman round of trials and all other mutato-biological experiments are going swimmingly.

He remembers those words exactly, years after he has said them to Cutter in his despicably chipper everything-is-fine voice, specifically because of what happens after he shuts off the PBRC and floats away to get something to eat. These conversations with Cutter—he calls them "fireside chats", of all things—always leave him feeling ridiculously hungry.

Do not imagine this is easy for him. Do not mistake habit for ease. They are very different things.

 

En route to the mess hall from his lab, he must pass through engineering. It is late at night, in earth terms; he had thought everyone was asleep.

He had thought he was alone.

So it is with no little surprise that he jumps and bangs his elbow on seeing Captain Lovelace's smiling, grease-streaked face pop out at him from under a console. He says something particularly filthy in his mother tongue, and Lovelace starts giggling, as Olga used to do when one of her cats did something silly.  
He stands there, feeling heat crawling up his cheeks and trying not to scowl, until she wipes a tear from her eye and says, through the wrench between her teeth, "You all right there, Doc?"

"Yes, Captain. I am fine. You startled me, that is all."

And she smiles, and this is not good, this is not good at all. Isabel's smile is wide and mischievous and gentle, and trusting.  
Isabel's trust is not a variable he controlled for. Her smile is not something he foresaw.

"Sorry about that," she says, still through clenched teeth, then catches herself and casually spits out the wrench. It bobs idly by his head. Isabel Lovelace wipes the back of her hand on her brow, painting a black streak over her eyebrow like war paint.  
"What brings you down to these parts at this time of night?" she asks, cocking her head, and he grunts something about the mess.  
She grins. "I'll come with you. I could use some late-night chili. I'll make you my mom's old recipe. You'll love it."  
And before he can protest, Lovelace grabs his arm, smiling, and tugs him after her like a forceful wind down the corridor.

Do not imagine this will be easy for him.

 


	2. preliminary findings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Isabel Lovelace gets herself wounded.  
> Doctor Elias Selberg is perhaps a great deal better than he means to be at making her feel better.

Jesus Christ, her stomach hurts.  
Well. Not exactly her stomach. Technically her abdomen, thorax, whatever it's called. Because not only has she broken a fucking rib, of course, but she's got a massive honking gash across the right side of her belly, like a velociraptor tried to kick her in the chest.

Serves her right, she guesses, for trying to do sensory array repairs during a solar storm; she'd gotten slammed bodily against the hull and cut herself on some loose panel or other, then had to comm Lambert and ask him, cursing every other word, to kindly haul her the hell back inside her ship before she lost all oxygen.  
Which he did in record time, bless him. Sam Lambert may be an officious insufferable stick in the cosmic mud, but damned if he isn't strong as an ox.  
However, this (only?) good quality of Sam's does absolutely jack to aid her in her current predicament, which is that her side _really fucking hurts._

And so she has been fobbed off, with much anxious clucking and well-deserved scolding, onto the extremely capable and undeniably handsome but near-mute Dr. Selberg.  
At least, mute around her, anyhow. No amount of coaxing will get him to say more than five words to her at a time that aren't about science. Which is kind of endearing, because he gets really animated and his eyes light up, like a kid at Christmas; but then he just shuts down again, goes back to pushing food around his plate, muttering to himself in some Slavonic language or other.

At least Sam _talks_.

Selberg, on the other hand, just kind of...floats around the station in a bubble of silence. Mostly contemplative silence. But she prides herself on thinking that when they're alone together (and she means that literally, not in, like, the really pervy way) his silence relaxes into something a little more companionable. And that's okay with her.  
She knows loneliness when she sees it.  
The sound of Selberg knocking, kind of ridiculously, on the medbay wall startles her out of her thoughts. She tries to smile; it turns into a wince. He floats over, all business.

"Captain, how are you feeling?" he asks in that no-nonsense voice of his, and it would be brusque if he weren't, like, deeply searching her face with genuine concern in those big green eyes. She imagines him reaching up to touch her cheek, very gently.

_Jesus fucking Christ, get a hold of yourself, Izzy._

"Well, it kinda sorta really frickin' hurts, doc."

He smiles. Lord Jesus, his eyes literally _twinkle_.

"That is to be expected, given what you have undergone, Captain. That was a very foolish risk to take."

  
Rhea beeps. _That's the understatement of the millennium, Doctor._

  
"Can it, R2-D2," Lovelace mutters, smacking the wall behind the medical table.

"I understand, Captain," Selberg says. "You did what had to be done. Is admirable."

Oh. Well okay. "...Thanks, Doc."

"You are welcome." Why is he smiling at her again? Why is her heart actually pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with blunt-force trauma? What is wrong with her? She must have one hell of a concussion, because there is no other way to explain this ridiculousness.  
"Take off your shirt, Captain Lovelace."

Yep. Definitely concussed.

  
Through gritted teeth. " _What_."

He starts, looks up at her again from his spot by her knee, where he's unpacking some gauze and bandages. It seems to take him a second to realize what he's said, and then he flushes bright red and stammers, "M-my apologies, Captain. English is difficult. All I meant was–" –he gestures to her torso– "–I need to bandage the wound."

Oh.

So, yeah, she takes off her shirt, button by button, her fingers clumsy with fatigue, and she's definitely imagining Selberg's eyes lingering on her hands as they move, like he wishes he could do it for her.  
She's also definitely imagining the shiver that crawls down her spine at that thought.

She tosses the shirt aside briskly, clad now in a tanktop and shorts. God, please let this travesty be over soon. She's too tired for anything else.

And then his fingers brush her stomach and suddenly she's the most awake she's been in months.

She looks down at him; he's bent attentively over her wound, all business, not looking at her.  
He rubs some kind of blue salve into the cut, and she tries not to hiss at the sting–but a second later she feels nothing but a spreading coolness where the pain was, and she actually shakes with relief. She doesn't even feel the needle going in.

She's almost disappointed when he finishes packing on the gauze–she has this impulse, a very clear vision of herself grabbing his hand, squeezing it, saying _No. Stay. Talk to me.  
Just this once, talk to me._

But instead, what comes out of her mouth is "Thanks, Doc."  
_Oh for fuck's sake, Izzy._

But he–Elias–he looks up at her, with those eyes, and there is a very soft smile on his face, and he says "You are more than welcome, Captain."  
And he touches her hand, for just a second, probably by accident. So why does she feel like it's glowing?

He floats to the door, turns, looks back at her, and he's still smiling, like he managed to be happy for once while he wasn't looking.

"Goodnight, Isabel."

Her mouth goes dry, and by the time she can say "Goodnight, Elias," he's already gone.

She sighs, pushes herself up, grabs her gently floating shirt from a corner of the room. She'd better find a book to read, because there's no way in hell she's going to sleep tonight.


End file.
